


like some country song (won’t be long)

by theundiagnosable



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Wedding Fluff, this is so corny i'm disgusted with myself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-27
Updated: 2018-10-27
Packaged: 2019-08-08 14:49:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16431491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theundiagnosable/pseuds/theundiagnosable
Summary: “Uh,” Auston says, because running off to dramatically elope seems like a lot of effort for something they’re going to be doing in a nice venue in less than 24 hours anyways.“Say yes,” Mitch says, like there’s any chance Auston wasn’t going to, because if he was any good at saying no to Mitch Marner his life would’ve turned out really different a really long time ago.





	like some country song (won’t be long)

**Author's Note:**

> l o o k sometimes I listen to aaron tveit singing ‘run away with me’ and i get emotional and this just happens

The nice thing about having all the same friends is that they only need one bachelor party, and the nice thing about _that_ is that even though Auston loses track of Mitch for a little while after the strippers, it’s easy as anything for Mitch to find him and basically jump him in the hallway, kissing Auston before he can get a single word out.  

Auston doesn’t mind. Auston the opposite of minds, parting his lips under Marns’ and getting a hand on Mitch’s back, holding him close. It’s intense, more than usual, and they’re both panting a little by the time they break apart for air.

“Holy shit,” Auston says.

“Marry me,” Mitch says, and Auston laughs, breathless.  

“Sick idea,” he says, just tipsy enough to be flirty and teasing and ten thousand percent down with a quickie before heading back to the open bar. They’re gonna be _married_.

“No, I mean, like, right now,” Mitch says, and it takes a second for Auston to realize that he’s actually being serious. Which- what.

What?  

“What?” Auston asks, and Mitch is staring up at him, beseeching, eyes wild.

“Let’s just- we’ll find a place and do it tonight, fuck everything, why should we even wait, Matts?”          

“Uh,” Auston says, because running off to dramatically elope seems like a lot of effort for something they’re going to be doing in a nice venue in less than 24 hours anyways.

“Say yes,” Mitch says, like there’s any chance Auston wasn’t going to, because if he was any good at saying no to Mitch Marner his life would’ve turned out really different a really long time ago. Way worse too, probably, he thinks, but he doesn’t get a chance to go full on cheese-fest because-   

“Okay?” he says, utterly confused but mostly down, which is probably more a byproduct of the two and a half fizzy cocktails he’s had than anything resembling logic.

Mitch nods, surges in and kisses him one more time before grabbing Auston’s hand and tugging him down the hall and through the crowd and right out the front door. They pass Mo and Freddie doing shots, Willy hitting on the bartender, and someone claps Auston on the back as they leave.

In the time it takes Auston to think his way through all that, he and Mitch have already walked straight past the limo they came in, right down the block.

“Google the closest place we can get married at two AM, ‘kay?” Mitch says, digging in his pocket and pulling out a set of car keys. The pavement’s all sparkly from the rain earlier.

“Right,” Auston says, gamely enough. “Sorry, whose keys-”  

The lights flicker on in a Volvo sedan a couple of cars down.      

“Tell me we’re not stealing your liney’s car,” Auston says.

“He knows,” Mitch says, without even glancing back.          

“Mitch,” Auston says, stopping so Mitch can’t keep tugging him forward, has to turn and look at him. “What’re you-” 

“ _Matty_ ,” Mitch interrupts, and something in his voice makes Auston pay attention. “Please.”

They know each other by now, years’ worth of looking at each other and reading the play. Auston reads this one; knows that whatever this is, it’s something Mitch needs.

“You’re okay to drive?” Auston asks, and Mitch nods. “Okay,” Auston says, for real this time, because fuck it, Mitch Marner’s going somewhere, Auston Matthews is going there too, and tonight they’re clearly going-

Somewhere.

That part’s still up in the air, Auston figures out pretty fast, because Mitch doesn’t seem to have much of a plan beyond getting the hell out of the bar.

“So where am I driving to?” he asks, a few red lights later.

Auston scrolls through the third page of Google, shaking his head. “I think most places are closed, Marns,” he says, apologetic. It’s not exactly a surprise: he searched ‘last minute weddings toronto’ and ‘gta midnight wedding chapel’, and even those seem to need at least a couple of weeks’ notice.                           

“There’s got to be somewhere,” Mitch says, desperate. “Someone?”     

“Hold on,” Auston says, because he’s nothing if not a go-getter. He switches to Craigslist, scrolls through a dozen creepy personals, which is as good a way to sober up as anything, and finally sees something useful.

“This random lady in Oakville posted about being ordained, like, two hours ago,” he reads. “I can text the number?”  

“Let’s go to fuckin’ Oakville,” Mitch says, determined, and it’s a good thing they’re at a quiet intersection, because the u-turn he does is so definitely not allowed, ever.

Auston bites his tongue, types out _hi we would like to get married please_ and hopes Craiglist lady is awake, then leans back in his seat, watches Mitch watching the road.

He thinks all the usual stuff he thinks, looking at Mitch – the dumb love shit that he’s been writing down for his vows – but he’s also still mostly at a loss. It hasn’t quite clicked yet, how they got from chilling at their bachelor party to jumping the gun on the wedding they’ve been planning for literally a year. Not that Auston has a problem with it, really, because if the end result is him being Mitch’s husband, he’s cool with pretty much anything, but he’s also not drunk enough to think that getting secret-married by a random Oakvillian is, strictly speaking, the best decision.

Not the worst. But not the best.

He just doesn’t get where this came from, is all. Mitch has been so gung ho about this whole thing since day one, and now he’s pushing the speed limit on the QE at nearly three AM.

Mitch doesn’t say anything, which is weird enough that Auston stays quiet too, at least until they pull off the highway.

“Your mom’s gonna be pissed that she won’t get pictures of us in our tuxes,” he says. Testing, a little.

“I don’t care,” Mitch says, which is a blatant lie because he’s an even bigger mama’s boy than Auston and they spent an entire weekend picking out their suits a couple months ago.

“You always care, man,” Auston says, and he doesn’t even mean the suit thing, just in general, but Mitch makes this sound like Auston hit him.

“Because it’s a big fucking deal!” he says, too loud. “This whole wedding is the literal biggest fucking deal of anything ever in our lives, I can’t-”

The car lurches as Mitch slams on the brakes, and Auston has to brace himself on the dash as they come to a stop at the side of the road. 

“Woah,” he says, and Mitch puts the car in park, and it’s so quiet.

“Sorry,” Mitch says, and Auston stares as he undoes his seatbelt, gets out of the car, walks a few feet away then, by the looks of it, screams up at the sky. Loud enough that Auston can kind of hear him, even with the windows closed. 

Mitch sits down heavy right on the curb, dropping out of view.

Auston blinks.

The second cocktail was probably a bad idea. 

He gets out of the car too, takes the keys with him and locks the doors before sitting down next to Mitch on the curb, feet in the gutter. Their dress pants are going to be ruined – the ground is still damp – but Auston doesn’t move, just looks over at Mitch.

“You feel better?” he asks.

Mitch lets out a huge breath.

“I’m kind of freaking out,” he says.

“No shit, bud,” Auston says, and Mitch faceplants right into his lap.  

Auston pats his head, gentle. Shifts, just barely, so that Mitch’s face won’t be pressed into his literal dick, because this probably definitely isn’t that kind of thing.

He’s worried, a little, but he keeps his voice conversational, leaning back on his hands. “Not gonna lie, I didn’t think you’d be the one to get commitment issues, out of both of us.”

“I don’t have commitment issues,” Mitch grumbles into Auston’s thigh, muffled by the fabric. “I’m the opposite of commitment issues, I’m like- I’m a commitaholic, dude.”

“This is true,” Auston says, mild. “You said you loved me on our literal second date.”

“’Cause I did,” Mitch says, and there’s a bit of stubbornness there in addition to how frazzled he sounded before. “I do. And it was romantic as fuck, though, when I said that.”

“Yeah, it was,” Auston concedes. It’s light as anything, just the two of them talking, but Mitch is still hiding his face.

They’ve got time, nearly a whole night of it, so Auston just stays where they are. Pets Mitch’s hair, a little, the way he likes, while Mitch loosely holds onto his legs, stays doubled over.

Auston rubs his thumb along the nape of Mitch’s neck. “Tell me what’s wrong?” he asks, quiet.   

Mitch shrugs, doesn’t look up.

 “C’mon,” Auston encourages. “Do the feelings shit.”

“Do the feelings shit,” Mitch echoes with a snort, because apparently panic-induced screaming isn’t enough for him to not give Auston shit. “You ever consider becoming a therapist after hockey, Matthews, ‘cause-”

“Shut _up_ ,” Auston says, because sue him, words aren’t his forte even when he’s not midway through his bachelor party. He facewashes Mitch ‘til he sits up, swatting at Auston and nearly smiling, reluctant, which was mostly the goal. “Talk to your almost husband, dude.”

Mitch huffs out a breath, runs a hand through his hair. It’s cut real nice, gelled back all neat for the wedding. He looks more like himself with it messed up a little.

“God,” he says, like it’s just hitting him. “We’re gonna be _husbands._ ”

“We are,” Auston says.

“It sounds so grown up,” Mitch says. “Like. Husbands. What the fuck.”

“We’re grownups,” Auston reminds him.

Mitch looks at him, skeptical. “You bought light up sneakers literally last month.”  

“Dude, they’re _ironic_ ,” Auston says, mildly offended, but he’s not going to get distracted just because his fiancé who still owns crocs doesn’t understand fashion. “You’re not freaking out just ‘cause of my sneakers.”

“Okay, but it’s stupid,” Mitch says, and he’s not talking about the sneakers.

Auston waits.

“Just, like-” Mitch groans, stares up at the streetlights instead of at Auston. “I don’t know, like- what if this changes everything?”

He’s clearly trying to say it casually. Even more clearly fails miserably at it. Would fail miserably even if Auston didn’t know him like the back of his hand, because Mitch sounds genuinely worried, vulnerable enough that Auston can’t even make fun of him, just reaches out and takes his hand, instinctive.

“Mitchy,” he says, soft. “It won’t.” 

“You don’t know that,” Mitch says, shaking his head, and Auston talks over him, tries to sound calm and in control, because that’s what he’s pretty sure Mitch needs from him, right now. “You can’t-”

“What’s going to change?” Auston asks; then, when Mitch scoffs, “No, I’m serious.” He squeezes Mitch’s hand, meets his eyes. “C’mon, what’s going to change?” 

Mitch wavers, squeezing his eyes shut. “What if I lose my ring?” 

Auston doesn’t hesitate. “I’ll buy you a new one and make fun of you forever.”  

“What if we can’t pick where to live when we retire?”    

“Half and half,” Auston says. “Or we’ll live in a tricked-out RV or something, next question.”  

“What if we have kids?” Mitch demands, and they’re going back and forth, rapid-fire. “We’re in _no way_ responsible enough to have kids.”

“It’s not like it can happen by accident,” Auston points out, but Mitch is shaking his head fast, clearly spiralling.

“What if we get a _daughter_?” he asks, eyes wide. “I don’t know shit about girls, what if she wants, like, nail polish? Is there still a wage gap? What the fuck do we do with that?” 

“Listen to me,” Auston says, firm, and waits for Mitch to look at him so he can hold his gaze. “So, number one, we’d have the coolest fucking daughter,” Auston says. “Number two, my sisters can help with girl stuff. And none of our kids are going to be poor.”

“I _know_ , but-”   

“Yeah, I know you know,” Auston says. “So freak out about something worth freaking out over, Marner, ‘cause nothing you’ve said has made me want to marry you any less.”

Mitch glares at him, and Auston doesn’t do the thing he normally does where he tells Mitch how cute he is when he tries to look intimidating – it’s the absolute truth and he’d swear it on anything – just glares right back.

Mitch cracks first, because he always does.

“You’re really fucking bad at being comforting, you know that?” he informs Auston, clearly struggling to keep a straight face, and when Auston tugs him in for a hug, wordless, Mitch clings so tight it hurts.       

Auston gets an arm around him, kisses Mitch’s cheek, the nearest bit of skin he can reach. “You’re comforted as fuck right now, don’t even lie.”

“Kinda,” Mitch admits, and Auston squeezes him close.

They hold onto each other for a long time. Long enough that Auston can feel Mitch’s pulse slow down to normal, and Auston didn’t realize how legitimately concerned he was until it’s replaced by a frankly embarrassing wave of relief.

They’re okay. They’re always okay.

“What else?” he prompts, nudging Mitch without letting go of him.

Mitch shrugs, not as frantic as before. “Dunno,” he says. Then, quiet, “What if you die first and then I’m like, alone and sad forever?”  

“Jesus, dude,” Auston says, because that was darker than he was expecting, but he can tell Mitch is waiting for an answer, so he powers through. “I mean, you’re older than me, so if we’re talking like, probability-”

“But what if?” Mitch pushes, and Auston thinks about it, tries to imagine it in reverse and just- can’t. He can’t picture his life without Mitch Marner in it.

That’s nothing new, though.

“Well,” he says. “That’s not really a thing that would change. Like, even if we weren’t married and I died first, you’d probably still be pretty sad, right?”

“So sad,” Mitch agrees, and it’s this weird, like- not heavy, but emotional moment, like the whole ‘til death do us part’ thing finally clicks, and Auston realizes for the millionth time that this is _it_. They’re going to be married, and just like every other time it’s hit him, it’s intense and scary and easy as breathing, because there’s never been anything to doubt, about the two of them. They’re the real deal. Always have been. 

That’s nothing new either.

“I’d stick around and haunt you,” Auston promises. “You’d actually get so sick of me.”

“I wouldn’t ever,” Mitch says, earnest, and Auston even believes him. They exchange smiles, small, and then Mitch raises an eyebrow. “You think it’s possible to suck a ghost dick?” 

It takes Auston a second to process, then- “Fuck _off_ ,” he giggles, surprised, and he’s never been a fan of how his face looks when he laughs but he knows Mitch is, and Mitch’s eyes light up, his smile back the way it should be, big and open and perfect.

He presses his nose up to Auston’s, now, gets their foreheads touching, close as ever. Auston closes his eyes, leans into Mitch’s touch. His almost-husband’s touch.

“Love you,” he says. 

“Love you back,” Mitch says, simple. “Ghost dick.”

“Ghost dicksucker,” Auston retorts.

“Ghost dicksucker’s future husband,” Mitch says, and Auston can hear the smile in his voice. He doesn’t sound scared anymore, not even at all; and when Auston opens his eyes, Mitch is sitting back, crossing his legs and grinning over at him, kind of sheepish.

“We probably shouldn’t elope right before our wedding, huh?”  

“Probably not,” Auston agrees, and he doesn’t even give Mitch shit about it, mostly because he’s not sober enough to come up with anything witty, but also because of love and cheesy wedding emotions, shit like that. “I would’ve done it if you really wanted to,” he says, mostly an afterthought. It’s the truth.

“Yeah, I know,” Mitch says. “You’re kind of whipped, bro.”

“ _You’re_ whipped,” Auston fires back, and Mitch doesn’t miss a beat. 

“Any day you want, baby,” he says in this ridiculously low sexy voice, waggling his eyebrows.

Auston shoves him off the curb, one-handed.  

Mitch lays right back on the pavement and laughs, clutching his stomach, and his laugh is just- it was the best thing Auston ever heard when they were eighteen and terrified and trying to make the team, and it’s still the best thing he’s ever heard the night before their wedding, still a little terrified and laughing on an Oakville sidewalk next to John Tavares’ Volvo. Still feels like a little sun lighting up in Auston’s chest just being around him, just _happy,_ plain and simple. 

Auston understands the eloping thing, he thinks. He’s so fucking excited to be husbands, he just-

God, he can’t wait.


End file.
